


Cynosure

by brynnmck



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 17:11:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brynnmck/pseuds/brynnmck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Lee surfaced from the endless pages of crew rosters with a jolt, halfway to his feet before he even realized what he was doing.  And there she was, standing in the archway where his office met his living quarters, neat and poised and wearing what he thought might be a new suit. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cynosure

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [](http://k-julia.livejournal.com/profile)[**k_julia**](http://k-julia.livejournal.com/) for her [Laura and Lee Fixathon](http://community.livejournal.com/laura_lee_bsg/27989.html). Julia fell on her sword and took one of the offers of gen fic, which I appreciate. ;) Her request was non-awkward Lee, someone being cranky, and flirting. As well as, if possible, politics and the Laura and Lee relationship in the grander scheme of things.
> 
> Thanks to [](http://danceswithwords.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://danceswithwords.livejournal.com/)**danceswithwords** for coming through in the clutch with a last-minute beta. Having a beta who can provide insightful comments even on very short notice is a thing of beauty and a joy forever, and I feel very lucky. :)

“Commander? Should I come back later?”

Lee surfaced from the endless pages of crew rosters with a jolt, halfway to his feet before he even realized what he was doing. And there she was, standing in the archway where his office met his living quarters, neat and poised and wearing what he thought might be a new suit. He automatically glanced behind her for her entourage, but there was no one, just the glimpse of a pair of marines stationed impassively in the corridor.

“Madam President. What—” He forced himself to take a deep breath, spoke more slowly. “I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t told you were going to be visiting today.”

Her brow creased. “I arranged it with your staff. But if this is an inconvenient time—”

“No, no, of course not.” He smiled ruefully, scrubbed a hand through his hair. “We’re a little short-handed around here; even a presidential visit can slip through the cracks, apparently. Sit down, please.” He briefly considered one of the chairs set neatly in front of his desk, but gestured to the pair of semi-comfortable armchairs tucked along one wall of his living quarters instead.

Some part of his brain still snickered disbelievingly at the idea that he had multiple seating options.

The president smiled a little at his invitation, slid gracefully into the chair and folded her hands in her lap. Silence stretched between them as he settled himself in the opposite chair. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been alone in a room with her. He struggled for a moment, trying to force his tired mind to locate an appropriate topic of conversation, studying the crosshatched metal of the floor in front of him until she surprised him with a laugh.

“Well. This is going quite well so far, I think.”

He looked up at her, saw the mischief in her eyes and couldn’t help laughing a little with her. “I’m not the best conversationalist these days, I’m afraid. If you’d like to know about the tension between various members of our off-shift maintenance crew, though, I’d be happy to enlighten you.”

“Captain to Commander in a matter of weeks—I can see how that would leave you a bit dizzy.” Her smile remained warm, but there was something different at the edges now. “‘Captain Apollo’ did have such a ring to it, though.”

He wasn’t sure what that meant, and it dug at him, enough that he returned, “So does ‘President Roslin,’ and apparently Dr. Baltar is going to do his best to make that title a thing of the past, too.”

She blinked at the shift in mood, the affection in her eyes going quickly to steel, and that just twisted the knife. “He certainly has a flair for the dramatic, doesn’t he?”

“You opened the door. Banning abortion, Madam President?” Despite the honorific, he knew he was dangerously close to disrespect, but he had seen this woman from bedraggled to beatified and he was too tired to pretend he was impartial. “You’re awfully quick to abandon the only laws that legitimize your presidency.”

“The Articles of Colonization were created in a time of peace, with no possible way to account for what we’re facing now. The preservation of the—”

“The preservation of our species is paramount, yes, I heard the talking points,” he snapped, remembering listening to the press conference in the _Pegasus’_ ready room just days before, the cold shock that had slammed into him as he’d realized what she was about to say. “I heard them on the wireless, just like everyone else.”

She raised her eyebrows, incredulous. “Is that what this is about? That I didn’t discuss it with you first?”

“Well, I suppose that if you couldn’t discuss a murder plot with me that involved my father and my best friend—and which would have involved me, by the way, if I hadn’t been busy drifting in space at the time—it’s probably too much to expect that you’d want input on a violation of basic civil rights.” He’d known, somewhere, that he was angry at her, but he hadn’t known how angry until now, when it was too late, the words spiraling hot and out of control.

In contrast, she was ice-cold. “I asked you to be my military advisor, Commander,” she said evenly. “ _Not_ my moral compass.”

“At the time I agreed to that arrangement, Madam President,” he replied, “you didn’t need a moral compass.”

Her poker face had improved immeasurably since he’d known her, but he saw the words strike home anyway, and was instantly sorry. Her eyes were haunted behind her resolve; he had a brief mental flash of her face on Kobol, streaked with rain and grief, her voice unsteady: _Do you think I made a mistake?_

“It seems like a long time since Kobol, doesn’t it?” she asked suddenly, startling him.

Her tone left her meaning open to interpretation; she was giving him the choice. He waited, considering his response. “Well,” he said finally, trying to keep his face as expressionless as possible, “we’ve both almost died since then.”

She just looked at him for a moment, and he held his breath. Then she snorted out a laugh, inelegant and bright. “You know, we have.”

“In fact,” he continued, feeling his mouth twitching, “I’ve almost died _twice_.”

“You’ll forgive me,” she smiled, “if I keep out of that particular competition.”

“I’m counting on that, Madam President,” he replied firmly.

The silence was easier now; she broke it with a giggle. “I came here to congratulate you,” she sighed. “I’ve done a fantastic job of that, haven’t I?”

He grinned, shook his head. “I appreciate the thought.” He hesitated, then, “I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you, when you—when we thought—”

She reached over and closed her hand gently over his forearm. “I think we both probably have more than a few regrets about the past several months, Commander. All we can do is learn from them, and move forward as best we can. Besides,” she added, her eyes wicked now, “you helped me eat Venner’s licorice. Don’t underestimate what I’d be willing to overlook for that.” He laughed a little—which he knew had been her intent—and she smiled at him, squeezed his arm, and that was at least one burden he didn’t have to carry around anymore.

He took a deep breath. “Have you considered what you’re going to do about Baltar?”

She rolled her eyes, scoffed, “Hope the cameras catch him twitching and talking to himself?”

That mental image was satisfying on several levels, and he indulged it for a few seconds. “That would kind of make it all worthwhile, wouldn’t it?” Then, since her hand was still on his arm, “You’ve got my vote, you know. And not just because Baltar is the alternative… though that certainly doesn’t hurt.”

“They don’t teach you flattery in military school, do they?”

“No, sir,” he answered, grinning, and he was pleased to see her grin back.

“Well,” she said, getting to her feet, “I should let you get back to your duties.”

He rose with her. “Thank you for coming, Madam President,” he said, hoping she heard the sincerity behind the formality.

“Thank you for your candor,” she replied. He flushed a little at the euphemism, but her eyes were clear. “Since your father was promoted, I’ve missed having a Commander Adama around to keep me honest.”

Well, _that_ was a concept that was going to take some getting used to, but in the meantime, “You can count on my support, sir.”

Her smile was brighter than all the polished steel around them. “And you can count on mine. Congratulations, Commander.” She held out her hand, and he took it, clasping tight.

“Kick his ass, sir,” he told her.

“Damn right,” she answered.

The fierce determination on her face in that moment kept him smiling long after she’d gone.


End file.
